


Vestal

by dorothy_notgale



Category: Bride of Re-Animator (1989), Re-Animator (1985)
Genre: Dominant!Dan, First Time, Oral Sex, Submissive!Herbert, Yes Really, i went there, none can stop me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 17:31:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5099273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorothy_notgale/pseuds/dorothy_notgale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Herbert kneels to worship a Goddess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vestal

“Now, Herbert, isn't She beautiful?” Dan asks, running his fingers over full breasts separated by a sea of healing tissue under which beats the heart of an innocent. The nipples peak, responsive as if they'd never been dead.

She is beyond definition. She is the first of a new breed, eternal and whole and unbroken. Her body shows the artistry of Her design, and Her mind comprises a plurality of wills and drives, holding more perspectives at once than any of Her flawed and singular forebears might hope to comprehend.

He supposes that, for Dan's purposes, 'beautiful' will suffice.

“You're always so rude to women,” Dan continues, helping Her shrug out of Her satin robe and kissing Her smooth neck from behind. “You need to learn to treat this one like a lady.”

And yes, it's true—She deserves the best. That's why he's given Dan to Her, after all.

He nods his acquiescence, meeting Dan's eyes carefully so that it's clear he really means it. Dan nods back, and then strong hands on Herbert's shoulders guide him down, down, to kneel on a floor ever sticky with the afterbirth of this most miraculous creation.

Reaching out to steady himself, his hands make contact with full, round hips, warm skin, and cold staples. Between the margins lie the soon-to-scar valleys joining Her components, redder and moister even than the space below Her curls. Dan removes Herbert's glasses and pushes his head forward, into that foreign territory he chose so carefully for all of them.

The act is a holy one, a kiss pressed to the divine undying. Her sex is as untried as Herbert could seriously ascertain; less important to him than its erotic history (nearly impossible to determine in any case) was the fact that the womb had never carried. She is generative potential, one who _could one day_ create lives newer and stranger than those of which any mundane brain could conceive. The only thing stopping Her was death. He knows that feeling; he hopes that She one day fulfills Her promise, as he finally has his own.

She gives a soft, throaty moan and spreads Her legs a bit farther.

“Good, Herbert. You're doing well.” Dan's praise is like a drug in his veins; to have done something _right_ for once, finally made this man proud instead of frustrated… he devotes himself in earnest to learning the frilly alien topography by mouth instead of sight. She tastes of blood and chemistry. Medicinal.

From above, he hears sounds of enjoyment, murmured conversation voiced too low for Herbert's ears. That's all right; She'll let Dan know what She needs. Dan's so good with Her. Occasionally, Dan's wandering hands brush Herbert's, and he has to stop himself from clasping them for reassurance. That's not what this is for.

Dan will tell Herbert what to do. For now, the work of pleasing his creature and by extension his man is all that's required, and he does it willingly for minutes, eons, until the next command.

“Put your fingers in.”

He reaches up, tries to comply, but She feels so delicate and strange. He's never done this outside of a procedural context; suppose he causes Her discomfort? How will he know if he's getting it right?

Penises are so much safer.

He moves rhythmically back and forth between slick labia, but can't make himself go beyond Her entrance. It rubs and dips almost hungrily against his slippery bare fingers.

She whines high in her throat, a begging sound, and flexes. Her clitoris feels angrily engorged against his tongue.

“Herbert,” Dan breaks in, voice stinging, disappointed, “what did I tell you? Don't make Her wait.”

Yes, yes, She shouldn't have to beg. That's Herbert's role. Steeling himself, he inserts his index and middle fingers into Her vagina as gently as he can manage.

Her sigh of approval lessens the pain of failure somewhat, but not as much as the feeling of two hands in his hair; one long-nailed and deceptively soft, the other blunt and rough. She and Dan direct his actions, teach him how to be what they need, and he feels Her wetness and hardens himself at the knowledge that he's succeeding.

“Much better.”

And will She like him, after this? After he's helped Her to this pleasure, shown that he can do some of what Her Dan does, given the chance? He does not require their love—the adoration tying them is entirely within his plans, and far too powerful to try to interrupt—but to be liked and valued would confirm his worth. To be cared for by the first immortal, seen as a kind creator, would let him know that he truly deserves to reap the benefits of his own work.

And one day, perhaps he and Dan will not need two bodies to do this for Her. Eventually their minds and wills may unite in a single frame, and She may keep them both for Her own, Queen(s) and Consort(s).

The new world will be… beautiful. That word does suffice.

 


End file.
